


you dance inside my chest where no one sees you

by Brinneysnog



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinneysnog/pseuds/Brinneysnog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>goodbyes are always the hardest part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you dance inside my chest where no one sees you

_part 1_  
  
This is it, and you know it. This is the last moment the two of you will share; the party will end, the lights will go off, people will file into cars, and move on with their lives. Your path will stray from his, he will continue to learn and strive and grow and you will merely watch from the sidelines, watching him on the big screen. He will become larger, always known as the Doctor, but he will be so much more.  
  
You will always be River Song, but you are easily shadowed by his ever growing presence. You have less time, all of your dreams having been lived. You will spend the rest of your acting career wishing for something nearly as exciting as your role on Doctor Who; for a family as tight knit as the Who cast. This is your last moment, your wrap party.  
  
Yet, you still have one dream that hasn’t been lived. A dream that is so improbable, impossible, immature. A dream to continue your life next to that man, the one with the wobbly knees and the narrow hips and absolutely delicious smile. The one who has made you feel so incredibly special over the past few years. The boy-grown-man who kisses better than anyone you’ve ever laid your lips upon.  
  
He’s across the room, a laugh on his face and a drink in his hand. You’ve known, for so long, that this day would come and you would hurt. You knew you’d say farewell, no longer hearing his voice in the early morning, or accidentally falling asleep against his arm between takes. Tonight, he will head home, and you will see less and less of him. This is your parting of ways. These are your final moments.  
  
But you can’t move away from the corner of the room. You can’t bring yourself into the light, into the party, because it’s too bittersweet. It’s all too painful, and the drink you’ve been nursing since the party began hasn’t dulled a single pang. He’s joyful, exuberant, but you? You’ll venture out and you’ll drag that rain cloud with you, and your friends and co-workers will drown. Oh, they will drown in your sorrows, and it’s merely because you can’t help it.  
  
You’ve faced down demons, beat down your nightmares, claimed victory in your wars. But this is your defeat. You nod and smile in all the right places, and you know they’re curious; “Is Alex alright?” - “She’s sad, mate. Everyone’s a little sad.” But you aren’t sad, are you? No, you’re bloody devastated. There’s a tear in your heart, a little jagged rip that’s been added to the many others because this is it.  
  
And both of you will just keep moving in opposite directions.  
  
“Miss Kingston, pray tell, what ever is the matter?” His voice startles you, and some of your drink slips down your chin at the startled movement. His eyes are smiling, but his mouth is set in a firm line, as if he’s daring you to lie. He’s always been able to see through whatever line you try to feed him. But you were unaware that he’d even moved, or when you’d become the target of his attention.  
  
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over me, darling,” you say softly, and the smile that reaches your lips is genuine. His eyes are so bright, his breath light against your ear as he leans forward. The position sends your heart a flutter and your breath catches when he chuckles.  
  
“I’m always worrying about you, pet,” he says, and he moves around, shifting his body to stand next to you, instead of in front of you. He’s still leaning towards you, his body bent to the side, and his heat seeps into your skin and you absorb it greedily. But his statement catches you off guard; confuses you to the point where you try to form words and it doesn’t quite work.  
  
So he explains for you.  
  
“You see, I’m always worrying whether or not I’m ever going to see you again. I mean, my first day on the job, and I was blessed with the companionship of The Great Alex Kingston. Who am I supposed to flirt with now?”  
  
Ah, there’s the catch, right? It’s the trivial things, the moments and jokes that don’t quite matter as much to you as it does him. Your heart is full of love and no where to put it; you can’t tell him, can’t even begin to fathom telling him. The two of you are seeing this from completely different points of view and it’s killing you. But you placate him, tell him what he needs to hear, because your confessions of love are definitely not that.  
  
“Oh, Matt, you’ll have no trouble finding someone new to embarrass with your words of flattery, believe me,” you laugh, and you’re selfish enough to place your hand upon his arm while you speak, if only to feel him under your touch one last time. You probably couldn’t hug him without tears streaking down your face.  
  
“But I don’t want anyone new, Alex,” he murmurs and suddenly you can’t breathe, because he’s too close and his breath is right there and the world is spinning. His words are like the beacon of hope you didn’t want. The light at the end of a tunnel that will only turn out to be a mirage, but you are so desperate for a crumb, a spectacular turn of events that no one saw coming, that you delve right in and turn towards his face. His pouting, mischievous face, with hidden thoughts tucked away so deep.  
  
But you’re in a room full of people and your initial thought of kissing him won’t happen. You kissed your final kiss not too long ago, and it’s a memory you will not let fade.  
  
Before you truly understand what’s happened, he’s taken your drink from you and led you away from the corner you’ve sequestered yourself in. He twirls you, and suddenly you’re dancing. And oh, you are weeping too. The tears slip unhurriedly from your eyes, and you lean your forehead on his chest. It’s okay if he knows this part of you, as long as prying eyes do not.  
  
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t reprimand you for crying, nor does he try to soothe you. He just holds you tighter to his chest and buries his nose in your hair. The room around you continues buzzing, as if the two of you have done this thousands of times. But your heart is expanding, and your tears won’t stop, and it’s all just too much.  
  
So you run.  
  
\--  
  
 _part 2_  
  
Her breath escapes in puffs of white air, the chill of the night seeping past the sheen of sweat that has accumulated on her skin. She hugs her shawl closer to her body, chiding herself for such a childish act.  
  
Why had she run? Why had she even let him take her into his arms like that? A moment of weakness had completely shattered her defenses. There was only supposed to be a farewell hug, perhaps a simple peck on the cheek. Their distance was meant to be kept, a stoic yet bittersweet goodbye in honor of the great River Song, a night for them to close this part of her book, say farewell to Alex Kingston and let it be.  
  
But Alex had let the man of her dreams take her into his arms and dance while she cried. And then she ran, like a child running from a monster. Like the Doctor so often does. She ran away, and if that isn’t indication enough, she doesn’t know what is.  
  
She heaves a sigh as she leans back against the brick wall of the building, slowly wiping the chilled tears from her cheeks. Her black gown billows around her ankles as the wind sweeps past her, sending a shiver along her spine. Tired, sad eyes look out into the darkness of the night, and she regrets the night already. Regrets the choices she made, the wall she’d never been able to truly guard against Matt. That first day, he’d made a dent, and it’s been crumbling ever since.  
  
She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to return to the party, smile in place, when this is honestly the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. She loves him so much, and she has to let him go. There’s no choice for her.  
  
She lets out a hoarse chuckle, eyes slipping closed as her head falls back. Her history with choosing the right man isn’t incredibly great, and when she thinks of Matt? He’s really the cherry on top of all her troubles. A man who’s so bright, so fabulous with her one and only daughter. A man who made her tremble with lust on countless occasions, or smile so wide she swore her cheeks were going to split.  
  
Matt’s career is just starting, earning parts in movies as his role of the Doctor continues through the years. Soon, he’ll say goodbye to Who as well, but he’s not near finished. A life of exciting roles, heartbreaking and moving alike. And sooner than she’d like, she’ll merely be known as the woman who played his wife for a limited time. He’ll be interviewed and he’ll say lovely things, but that’ll be it.  
  
They’ll no longer be working side by side, smiling, flirting, joking. She won’t see him except on rare occasions, and even then, it won’t be enough for her greedy heart. She doesn’t want to let him go, leave him and watch him fall for the new beautiful girl on the block. She’s so bloody selfish in her ways.  
  
But she will, of course. She’ll let him go (as if she truly had a claim on him before), let him have the life he deserves. Because he does deserve a happy life with someone his age, someone who can love him and give him what he needs.  
  
She had contemplated telling him her feelings before, in moments that became meaningful in mere seconds. She’d wanted to let it slip, with his arm around her while they read lines together; a soft whisper between bodies.  
  
I love you.  
  
And then she’d catch herself, notice what a fool she was being, and break those moments. Shifting, coughing, excusing herself. Make some sort of joke that would derail the moment as if it had never existed. No, she couldn’t bear weighing him down with the knowledge she loved him. Not when he wouldn’t know what to do with it; she’d be embarrassed, he’d feel uncomfortable.  
  
And after tonight, she’ll no longer need to worry about letting it out by accident.  
  
As she’s always done, she’ll reinforce her resolve, fix her no doubt ruined make up, and face the crowd once more. She’ll say her goodbyes, love him in silence, and let him go.  
  
Mind made up, Alex tucks a loose hair behind her ear, and turns back to the building. An hour or two more, and she could officially make a break for it.  
  
She could be done pretending around him.  
  
\--  
  
 _part 3_  
  
He dawdles, fiddling with his empty cup. His eyes continuously go back to the exit, where she had escaped to mere minutes before. She ran, and he had watched, helpless, as she slipped from his hands like that bar of soap that always managed to escape his grasp. She’s graceful in her running, something he’s never been, and the ache that’s resided in his chest since the beginning of the year only seemed to intensify at the sight.  
  
No one really took notice of her departure; only the few people who stood near the exit. Their heads whipped around, watching as she retreated from the room -- from him. The night’s slowly closing in on him and the realization sets in that this has been inevitable. The distance between the two of them has continuously grown since the news of her final episode (why, oh why couldn’t they end the two of them together?), and soon it will be the largest canyon in recorded history.  
  
Except it won’t be recorded, because his love for that woman will never be known to anyone other than himself. The onlookers in his life will merely assume that it’s two actors who joined together for a common project parting ways, as so very often happens. No one will assume that his feelings for the woman who played opposite him for so long became the woman he wants to be opposite him for the rest of his life.  
  
He’s saying goodbye to her tonight, and it hurts. He doesn’t want to let her go, he doesn’t want to let her run and finish the creation of that great divide. He wants to pull her back into his arms and let her tears, her laughter, her everything wash over him until he’s drowning in the essence that is completely her. He wants to hold her hand and kiss her on the mouth while everyone is looking at them, snapping pictures of them together, because he doesn’t give a damn about what anyone thinks.  
  
But he cares what she thinks, and he is so young. There’s that fear in him that, even if he were to make it past forming the right words, would cripple him when he heard her answering pity for the feelings he has. She’d soothe, she’d comfort and she’d give him words of wisdom, sending him on his way. And he knows he wouldn’t be able to live through the rejection from Alex Kingston.  
  
So he loves her from afar, letting himself dance with her; it’s her last night and it’s all he can do not to break down and cry.  
  
Her tears still soak his jacket, and she’s been gone longer than a trip to the loo would normally take. And of course, Matt being Matt, he’d immediately assumed she’d gone to wash up. Assumed the tears were her sadness of leaving the show. He’s slowly beginning to wonder if it’s the goodbyes, something she wants to avoid.  
  
Panic seeps into his veins, the frightening thought of her skipping out on the rest of her farewell party, running away from them because the idea of saying farewell is too much to take, dancing through his mind. He places his empty cup down on a nearby table and rushes from the room, intent on finding her before she can make her idea a reality.  
  
He finds her sooner than expected, her defeated form re-entering the building, face flushed with the cold from the night. Her eyes are rimmed with red, make up slightly smeared beneath her lower lids. He freezes mid-step, overcome with the beauty of her, and the sight of him seems to stop her in her tracks as well. They stare at each other for what seems like eons, gazes fused together, hearts beating rapidly. He silently wonders if he should break the silence, but he’s loathe to do so, because if the silence is broken, the moment is broken.  
  
But of course, she speaks first, an apologetic smile appearing on her face as she explains herself to him.  
  
“I’m sorry, dear. I’m not sure what came over me, and I just needed a bit of fresh air. If you give me a minute, I can get washed up and we can return to the party, yeah?”  
  
He’s not sure what compels him to stop her; perhaps it’s the defeated tone of her voice, or the slight crack in it when she speaks of returning to the party. Or maybe it’s his own selfishness, his need to have her near.  
  
Or maybe it’s because he’s tired of fighting his own restraints, tired of letting every moment pass them by as if they have all the time in the world, because they so obviously don’t. The end is imminent, and he needs to try.  
  
“Alex, wait,” he all but shouts to her retreating form, this time truly headed for the loo. She stops, hand poised for the door, and looks back to him with her head tilted. Honest curiosity shines back at him from her eyes, and he melts as he always does. “I need to tell you something.”  
  
\--  
  
 _part 4_  
  
Fear and hope mingle together, causing her stomach to contract painfully. There mustn’t be anything important for him to say to her -- not now, not when there should be nothing left to say. Not when they should be, will be, done in a matter of hours.  
  
But his voice convinces her that it is important, at least to him. Whatever is about to tumble from those soft lips is going to change the world for him, and quite possibly her as well. And that frightens her to the point where her limbs are shaking. But she doesn’t move towards him, only moves to remove her hand from the knob, and step away from the door.  
  
He seems to be at war with himself, mouth opening and closing as he searches for the words. Words that she is scared of, words she probably doesn’t even want to hear. He takes a step closer and she tries not to flinch when his hands move to her shoulders. They’re warm against her naked collarbone, and she shivers against the touch.  
  
“Alex,” he starts, and her name on his lips sounds so forbidden in this moment. Husky, a little sad, and maybe she should pull away. But his lips move faster than her numb body does, and he’s speaking. “I know I sound thick, probably like a downright ninny right now, but I have to get this out. I can’t let you walk away without knowing.”  
  
She feels like she’s going to throw up, the hidden secrets of his words literally causing her throat to constrict and that burn behind her eyes to sting anew. She feels like her hopes are rising for nothing good, because he can’t possibly mean what she thinks he does. He can’t, it’s just not possible.  
  
Just to clarify, she chokes out, “What do you mean?” It sounds small, nothing like her voice at all.  
  
“What I mean is,” he hesitates, brings his bottom lip into his mouth as he gathers up his courage to continue, and it comes out rushed, but oh so warm against her face. “I mean.. god, I love you.”  
  
And just like that, time freezes. He’s staring at her, eyes wide as if he can’t believe those words just escaped his mouth, and his grip on her shoulders tightens momentarily. Her heart is beating so fast, the blood rushing through her ears is cancelling any sound from the outside world. There’s just this bloody impossible man in front of her, mouth hanging open and cheeks reddening.  
  
And then the words continue and she strains to hear them. She strains, past the tears that are escaping her eyes again, past the blood in her ears. She strains, because she needs to hear everything.  
  
“I couldn’t let you leave tonight without knowing what you’d say. Alex, I’m such a fool, and I’m so terribly sorry, but I’ve loved you for so lon-”  
  
“There you two are! What’re you two doing out here? There’s a party going on!” Steve shouts, walking into the hallway with a smile and a drink in his hand. He stops, glancing between the two of them, a question in his eyes. Alex jumps away from Matt quickly, shaking her head and wiping away the tears in her eyes. She’s about to speak when Steve merely raises his glass, as if in toast, nods in understanding (something she hasn’t even acquired yet), and turns around on his heel.  
  
The moment he’s gone, it feels as if there’s been a weight lifted off her shoulders, and that understanding she’s been struggling with finally dawns. She turns back to Matt, who is staring at her with wide eyes, a confused edge against his brow and she manages a smile.  
  
“Oh, you impossible man,” she breathes, and that confused brow increases. He’s unsure of the words that are about to be spoken, but she can’t help it. There’s a grin on her face, her heart is racing and this is the plot twist she’s been begging for. The one she didn’t expect for the life of her, and the one that’s definitely going to change everything.  
  
She reaches him, and that grin has morphed into a breathtaking smile. She places her hands on his face, caressing his cheeks as his eyes move back and forth, searching hers. She’s leaning towards him now, and there’s not a damn thing in the world that can stop her.  
  
“I love you, too,” she breathes against his lips, keeping her eyes locked on his. The confession spurs him on, and suddenly she’s crushed against him. His mouth slants over hers, tongue slipping out to seek hers. She complies and shudders against the hands that are running up her backless dress.  
  
Those same hands bury themselves into her hair only to drop to her waist again, and he’s pulling her even closer to him, lips detaching as he lifts her up from the ground. There’s this extravagant smile on his face, and she laughs.  
  
Tonight is her wrap party, but she will not be leaving him any time soon, it seems.


End file.
